Satsuma: The Wandering Years
by omasuoniwabanshi
Summary: Fresh from the battlefield of Toba Fushimi, Kenshin finds himself in Satsuma where he stumbles across an unexpected opportunity to do a good deed, but will it come back to haunt him?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Why did I write this? Because there just aren't that many wandering years stories compared to all the AUs and Meiji era ones, and I wanted to fill in some of the blanks in Kenshin's life story. What events and experiences shaped him into the quiet, gentle man who wandered into Kaoru's life in the opening scene of the anime? Hopefully this story will show one step along the way.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin characters or plot.

CHAPTER ONE

Kenshin's war was over. His memories of the Battle of Toba Fushimi were beginning to fade from his nightmares when he crossed over into Satsuma province.

He'd been wandering over a year, aimlessly journeying from town to town, and found himself near the bottom of Japan. He'd passed through volcanic mountains with sulfurous hot springs that made his nose wrinkle with the smell of sulfur and the pop of gas bubbling up through the mud.

The green farmlands of Satsuma were a welcome relief. They stretched out before him as he descended from the hills, following the dirt track that meandered through the mountains in back of him. The track joined up with a dirt road. To the right the road disappeared into a dark forest. To the left were farm fields and a small town just up the rise of a hill.

Craving human contact and the possibility of a job and a meal, Kenshin made the obvious choice and turned left. He was nearly to the town when he heard it, that faint, almost animal whine of a man in pain. He'd heard enough cries of pain on the battlefield to recognize that whoever was making the noise was past the first initial wrenching shock of the wound and was now enduring it.

The sound was coming from the left, behind a bank of dirt where part of the hillside had fallen into the dry streambed that snaked alongside the road. Leaping up the bank, Kenshin steadied himself on the crumbling edge by grabbing onto a tree trunk and saw before him a field of sweet potatoes. At the far edge was an oxcart lying on its side. The ox was still harnessed to it and was placidly flicking at insects with its tail.

Beneath the cart was a man. Kenshin ran forward and knelt next to him. The man's face was pale and streaked with sweat. He was barely conscious. His torso and arms were free of the cart, but the rest of him was concealed under the heavy wooden vehicle.

He looked up at Kenshin, opening eyes filled wide with pain.

"Please, please…" he gasped.

"Shh, don't try to speak," Kenshin ordered. The cart had to come off the man, that much was clear. He put his shoulder to the rough wood side and heaved. It moved an inch then resettled itself, causing the man to gasp sharply.

Shoving wasn't going to work; he was only causing the farmer more pain. There had to be something else, some other way.

Glancing around, Kenshin saw several chunks of rock back by the roadside. A round one slightly larger than the others would do. Kenshin rolled it over to the cart then returned to the dirt bank. Taking out his sakabatou, he reversed it and sliced a branch off, dragging it over to the cart.

The man watched, but didn't speak, curiosity leaking out behind the pain dulling his eyes. Kenshin thrust the cut edge of the branch into the dirt under the cart, and set the middle of the limb over the rock. It was a crude sort of lever, but it worked. Tired though he was from walking, Kenshin's arms were still strong. Heaving against the branch, he moved the cart upward.

"Can you crawl out?" he gritted out when the cart was off the man.

"I'm sorry, no," he gasped.

Kenshin stifled a curse and kept heaving. The cart lifted, and then tottered. It was about to fall back onto the man. Horror galvanizing him, Kenshin heaved harder then dropped his grip to rush forward and shove against the cart.

For a second he didn't think he was going to make it, but though the cart teetered between falling back and righting itself, in the end it crashed back on its wheels, startling the ox.

A few murmurs and pats on the nose kept the ox from bolting, and Kenshin was able to turn his attention to the injured man.

His hair had come loose from its tie, and was sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He was alarmingly pale, eyes jammed shut from the pain as he grunted out breaths of air, hands fisting in the soil at his side. Kenshin left the ox and knelt beside him to stare down at the wounded area.

The hip was broken; there was no doubt. It angled oddly and the streaks of blood from upper to lower hip darkened the blue cloth gi he wore and revealed the diagonal imprint of where the cart edge had fallen on him. Moving him would be agonizing.

"Wait here," Kenshin ordered, hearing the tone of command in his voice and cursing inwardly. He was no longer Katsura's trusted assassin, nor was he de-facto leader of men in battle. "I'll come back with help," he finished softly.

The man nodded his agreement while continuing to grimace.

Kenshin took off running. He was further from town than he thought, for the road didn't cut straight through to the buildings he could see in the distance. Instead, it angled around a small lake. Skirting the lake, Kenshin came upon another sweet potato field and found three men busily harvesting. They looked up as he called out.

"Help, please. A man is hurt."

The tallest of the three gaped, then took charge.

"Right. Where?"

He wiped an arm across his brow where the twisted cloth serving as sweatband hadn't caught the moisture dripping into his eyes. The eyes were dark brown and set under bushy eyebrows. He was stocky, graceless, and had the air of one who was impatient with weakness.

The other two were smaller and slighter, but both were at least two or three inches taller than Kenshin. They obviously took their lead from the tall one, sparing only quick curious glances at Kenshin, keeping their attention on their fellow laborer.

"Back there," kenshin pointed down the road.

"Hagiwara's place?"

Kenshin paused. He hadn't thought to ask the man's name.

"Taki, Kai, stay here. Keep working. I'll be back," the leader said, brushing his dirty hands against his thighs and shrugging into the arms of the gi he'd let drop down his back as he'd worked. He tugged at the cloth cord around his waist which kept the gi in place, checked that it was still tied securely, then joined Kenshin.

The man didn't talk much as they hurried down the road. Kenshin found out that his name was Osamu, and he'd lived next to the Hagiwaras his whole life. Osamu also made it clear that after he helped he'd be going back to work.

"Not everyone made it back from the war," he said darkly. "We're all shorthanded this year."

Kenshin nodded and picked up the pace.

When they came to the oxcart Osamu sucked in his breath at the sight of the wounded man who lay unconscious in the furrowed rows of dirt.

"That's Hagiwara alright. Hirose. The older brother Yuuichirou is dead."

Kenshin shot him a curious glance. Osamu was staring down with a mix of pity and impatience.

"We need to get him to a doctor," he reminded the man.

"Their house is closer," Osamu countered, shrugging a shoulder to dislodge a horsefly.

Glancing down, Kenshin saw another fly land on Hirose Hagiwara and begin to saunter over the blood stained gi. He swatted at it.

"The house, then," he agreed.

It took the both of them to pull a side plank from off the cart, slide Hirose onto it, and deposit plank and man gently into the cart bed. Osamu gave Kenshin directions, then took off down the road to town to collect the doctor.

In very little time, Kenshin pulled up in front of a good sized home. It had the steep pitched roof of a typical peasant structure, but the engawa that skirted the walls was of good quality polished wood planks, and a small garden of flowering shrubs instead of vegetables lay to the side of it. It was as if the building couldn't decide if it wanted to be a formal house or a farm dwelling.

Looping the reins around cart edge, Kenshin jumped to the ground and stepped onto the engawa just as a girl came to the door. A bit shorter than Kenshin, she was pale in the shadow of the roof overhang, her dark hair tied back in a simple ponytail. She was holding a bundle of cloth, laundry from the looks of it, and her eyes became questioning. She stayed cautiously in the doorway as she saw him standing there.

"Forgive me," Kenshin said softly, registering her timidity. "I came across a man in the field outside. There was an accident and…"

"Hirose?" The girl's voice quavered, high with fear, and she clutched the cloth to her chest.

"He's alive," he reassured her quickly, "but he's hurt pretty badly. Your neighbor, Osamu, went to get the doctor."

She swayed in the doorway and Kenshin took a step forward, ready to catch her if she fainted, but she straightened on her own.

"I'm alright, but Hirose?"

"He's in the cart."

Silently the girl leaned down and set the bundle of clothes on the engawa then walked past Kenshin to climb up into the cart and settle by Hirose. She touched his forehead and called his name gently.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" asked Kenshin, embarrassed by the tenderness in her voice. "We'll need to get your husband inside."

"Husband?" The girl echoed. "Hirose isn't my husband. I'm Miura, his sister. We're all that's left of our family."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Kenshin berated himself. In the sunlight he could see the family resemblance. Face relaxed now from the grimace of pain, Hirose's thin nose and high cheekbones were echoed in Miura, though her chin was rounder and her eyes were set slightly closer together, giving her an air of curiosity, as if she were perpetually ready to furrow her brow in inquiry.

"We'll need to get him inside," Kenshin repeated.

"How can I help?" she asked simply.

In the end, they managed to get Hirose into the house using the plank. Kenshin took hold of the end of the plank Hirose was resting on and began pulling it out of the cart. Miura held her brother steady on it as it moved. When it was almost to the end, the girl jumped down from the cart and grabbed onto it, nearly pitching Hirose into the dirt in the process.

Though Kenshin tried to take up most of the weight, by the time they got the man into the house Miura's end was shaking. They set him in the center area by the fire pit so that the light from the smoke hole cut into the roof fell on him. Miura rushed to open the side shoji screens to let more light in then sank to her knees by her brother, staring anxiously at him.

"He's all I have left," she said softly, as Kenshin stood next to her.

"Yuuichirou, my older brother, never came back from the war. He made it all the way through the battle of Toba Fushima, and even made it to Hokkaido with Sanada when they retreated, but Sanada wrote and told us he died of illness. Sanada was his best friend. They joined up together." She sighed, then continued. "Since then it's just been me and Hirose."

"Hokkaido?" Kenshin whispered.

Hokkaido was where the pro-shogunate forces retreated after Toba Fushima. Though it was clear after that battle that the Ishin Shishi had won, and the shogun himself admitted defeat and abdicated, some of the shogun's supporters would not stop fighting. They'd retreated to the north to set up their own republic called Ezo. It took the fledgling imperial government months to subdue and defeat them. Satsuma province, under the leadership of Saigo Takamori, initially sided with the shogun against Choshu, but switched sides way before Toba Fushima and fought alongside Choshu against the shogun instead. So what was Hirose and Miura's brother doing in Hokkaido?

"Oh yes, we're not supposed to talk about that," Miura went on dully. "Hirose said not to."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's OK," Miura's voice hitched as she leaned forward to smooth her brother's sweat streaked hair off his forehead. "Hirose can't hear us right now."

Twisting slightly to look back at Kenshin, she smiled sadly.

"The Hagiwaras have always been supporters of the shogun. It's because the shogun commended my ancestor's bravery in the battle for the Ryuku islands. We grew up on stories like that. When Saigo Takamori decided to ally with Choshu against the shogun, my brother and Sanada left him to support the shogun. I never saw my brother again."

Her voice trailed off. Uncomfortable, Kenshin let the silence continue until the doctor arrived.

He blustered through the door like a gale force, glaring around under iron-grey hair with his medicine box strapped to his side.

"Where's the patient?" he bellowed.

Kenshin retreated outside to where Osamu waited on the porch. It was then that he realized he'd forgotten to take off his sandals when he'd carried Hirose inside.

"I'm going now," Osamu said, crossing his arms and nodding towards the doorway. "The doctor may be a little deaf, but he's good. He'll fix Hirose up in no time at all."

Kenshin had the distinct impression that Osamu was only saying that not because he believed it, but because it made him feel better about abandoning the Hagiwara family into the doctor's tender care.

He nodded shortly and watched as Osamu took off over the sweet potato fields, disdaining the dirt track that Kenshin followed with the oxcart when he first came to the house.

Minutes passed. With nothing else to do, Kenshin decided to tend to the ox. The beast was placidly standing in the cart traces, chewing on some weeds. It flicked an ear when Kenshin walked up to it, and allowed him to rub its nose.

Kenshin liked animals. Apart from cavalry horses in the army, he hadn't had much contact with them since his childhood on a farm. The ox's breath was warm as he nudged Kenshin with his nose. Kenshin responded to the unspoken demand and scratched behind the animal's ears for a while.

After a mutually satisfying interval, Kenshin grabbed the side rein and led the ox and cart around the edge of the porch to what turned out to be the barn. He unhooked the animal from the cart and got it fed and watered in its stall. The cart he left outside. The plank they'd used to carry Hirose would need to be replaced. He'd offer to do that as soon as the doctor left, which looked to be happening from the commotion on the engawa fronting the house.

"I've wrapped him up tight so don't let him pick at the bandages," came the doctor's voice. "Remember, he's not allowed to move about for at least two weeks, not unless he wants that hip to heal crooked. Keep him still. Rest is what he needs right now."

The doctor stomped his way down the front step and shot a glare in Kenshin's direction. "Who're you?"

"Himura, Kenshin Himura."

Looking him up and down, the doctor harrumphed. "So you're the one who found Hirose."

He made it sound almost like an accusation. Not knowing how to respond, Kenshin stayed silent.

"Good thing you did. Hirose was about to go into shock. Nothing could've saved him then."

The doctor stared critically some more. Kenshin resisted the urge to slouch and shuffle his feet. The doctor was one of those people who made him feel like he was being measured and found wanting, even when they were being complimentary.

"Miura!" the older man bit out suddenly.

"Yes, sir?" the girl answered from the doorway.

"Feed this man. He's scrawny and needs to eat."

With that the doctor trotted down the dirt track, leaving both Kenshin and Miura open-mouthed in shock behind him.

"Are…are you hungry?" Miura's voice asked hesitantly.

Kenshin turned back toward the house to answer her.

"Yes," he replied, surprised into honesty.

"Please, come in." Miura gestured and stood back so he could enter.

Taking his sandals off, Kenshin followed her into the house.

o-o-o

After a meal of soup, sweet potatoes and vegetables, Kenshin was ready for a nap. It was only mid afternoon, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. The first real meal in two days served not to energize him, but to remind his aching body that he'd been walking constantly for nearly a week. Miura noticed and was quiet while removing the remains of the meal.

When the dishes were cleared away she came to sit a respectful distance away from him on the tatami mats.

"Himura-san," she began formally.

Kenshin forced himself to wake up, shaking his head a little to move his bangs back from his eyes. Miura stifled a giggle and he felt foolish.

"Yes, Miura-san?" he returned just as formally.

"I have a proposal for you. It's a business proposal. I need someone to help out on the farm. It's just until Hirose is better. You see, the sweet potatoes need to be harvested, and I can't do it all on my own, so I was wondering…" she trailed off, staring down at her hands which were clenching in her lap.

"Would you like me to stay and help out?" Kenshin asked, taking pity on her.

"Would you?" she asked, eyes opening wide with hope. "I know you're a samurai," she said, gesturing jerkily to the sakabatou resting in its sheath at his side. "I didn't want to offend you, and I can't pay you much, but I can offer you food and lodging and, and…"

Kenshin held his hands up to stop the flood of words.

"Miura-san, I'm no samurai. I'm just a wanderer. I'd be grateful for the work."

"Oh thank you!" the girl's shoulders slumped with relief. "I don't know what I would have done if you'd said no."

Hating to break her happy mood, Kenshin forced himself to ask, "But what of your brother? He may not want a stranger in his house."

Miura furrowed her brow. "Why wouldn't he? You saved his life. Besides, it's not as if we could afford to pay someone from town to do it, even if we could find someone who was available during harvest season." She stopped and covered her mouth. "I mean, we will pay you, of course. It's just that we can't pay as much as we could to a day laborer. I mean…"

Miura was now a delicate shade of pink as she floundered.

"Whatever you can pay me if fine. I'm just happy to sleep under your roof tonight instead of out on the hillside," Kenshin reassured her.

The girl smiled, then gasped, staring over Kenshin's shoulder.

"Who's sleeping under our roof?" came a low voice.

Hirose Hagiwara was awake.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"Well?" asked Hirose Hagiwara. Propped up on an elbow, hair askew and pale from the pain, he looked ghoulish, as if he were more dead than alive.

Kenshin swallowed. He'd been afraid of this. Miura might think it a good idea to allow a stranger into her home, but her older brother was obviously more suspicious.

"Hirose! You're awake!"

Miura ignored the look Hirose was giving Kenshin and rushed to his side, putting her hands gently on his shoulders to urge him back down.

"You shouldn't be moving around. The doctor said you have to rest."

"Forget the doctor, what's going on here?"

Hirose resisted, stubbornly keeping his torso upright, though he winced at Miura's well-intentioned attempts to get him to lie down.

There was only one thing to do.

Kenshin put his hands on the floor in front of his knees and bowed low over them. "Forgive me, Hagiwara-san. I entered your home without permission. I will leave."

"No! Please, don't go," Miura cried out and leaned over to whisper urgently in her brother's ear.

Easing back into his sitting position on the floor, Kenshin waited. Hirose's tense expression relaxed, and he lay back down to stare at the ceiling as he spoke.

"My sister tells me I owe you a debt of gratitude," he said tiredly. "You can stay, if you'd like."

"Thank you."

Miura rose to her feet. "I will go and prepare a futon."

"Upstairs," Hirose ordered flatly, gesturing to a ladder in the corner that jutted up through a hole cut in the ceiling. Kenshin guessed it led to an upper storey hidden beneath the steep roof.

"But Hirose," began Miura. She stopped when he raised his head to give her a look. Nodding sadly, she disappeared behind a shoji screen.

"There's plenty of room upstairs," Hirose told Kenshin. "The ladder creaks a bit, but it's sturdy."

"Ah."

Point taken. Hirose was letting Kenshin know that if he tried to sneak downstairs to the family quarters, more particularly to Miura's room, he'd be heard.

Upstairs proved to be mainly storage. Discarded farm equipment, ancient futons, and a large wooden loom dominated the space.

Miura took a broom and brushed away the worst of the dust, coughing as it swirled around her. Kenshin held the futon until the floor was clean, then set it down, glancing over at the nearby loom. It seemed steady enough not to fall over on him as he slept.

"That was my grandmother's loom," Miura said. "She used to raise silkworms and make cloth. Mother gave up on it after she died. She said there was no sense pretending we were true samurai status anymore."

She blushed, realizing she'd revealed a family secret.

"Do you weave?" Kenshin asked, filling the awkward silence with a question.

"Me? No. I never learned how, and now…" she trailed off.

"Now?"

She smiled. "It's nothing. Please, rest here. I'll come and get you for the evening meal."

He watched her disappear down the ladder, then walked over to the loom, touching it gently. Had Tomoe known how to weave? She too was born into the samurai class. It was one of the many things he hadn't thought to ask her, and now it was too late.

Kenshin lay back on the futon, memories of his time in Otsu filling his thoughts until they faded into dreams.

o-o-o

Dinner was awkward. Hirose couldn't sit upright because of his hip, so Miura had to feed him his meal. He chafed at the indignity, so Kenshin ate as quickly as possible and retreated up the ladder to give him privacy. Despite his afternoon nap, he slept soundly and woke before dawn. Usually at this hour he'd be outside practicing his kata, the rhythms and procedures of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu as taught to him by his master, Hiko Seijuro.

However, he was staying with a family now and had no desire to annoy Hirose by creeping down the ladder before the others were awake. So instead he moved the futon aside and did an abbreviated version of his morning kata, concentrating on silence and precision rather than the more elaborate, powerful moves.

He heard Miura starting breakfast. When the smell of miso soup began wafting its way up to the second floor he sheathed his sakabatou and descended.

"Good morning, Himura-san." Hirose's voice was hoarse, and from the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't slept well.

"Good morning, Higiwara-san," Kenshin returned.

He came and sat across the firepit from his host just as Miura entered and set a tray down in front of him. She went to the kitchen and returned with another for Hirose, and knelt next to him to help him eat. Tea followed the meal, and soon Hirose's eyes were closing.

Miura withdrew her arm from behind her brother's head where she'd been propping him up so he could eat, and lowered him gently down on his futon. She picked up the pottery cup he'd been drinking out of and sniffed it.

Noticing Kenshin's stare, she smiled nervously.

"The doctor gave me a powder to relieve Hirose's pain. He said it might make him sleepy. He refused to take it last night, so I slipped it in his tea this morning."

Kenshin blinked and set his own tea down abruptly.

"Oh, I didn't put any in yours," she reassured him, and Kenshin felt foolish.

These were good people. Hirose was only being protective of his little sister in not taking the medicine last night, and she in turn was protecting him the best way she knew how.

Miura retrieved his cup as well and disappeared into the kitchen area. When she reappeared she was carrying a basket and wearing a broad brimmed straw hat, adjusting the chinstrap as she knelt by Hirose to leave him a jug of water and a tray of food.

"Shall we go?" she asked.

"Yes," Kenshin answered. They made their way out the door. Kenshin moved towards the barn, but Miura stopped him.

"We won't need the oxcart today. Let's just get the sweet potatoes into the bags. We can leave them in the field overnight."

Shrugging his agreement, he followed her down the dirt track to the edge of the field.

Harvesting sweet potatoes used an entirely different set of muscles than swordplay. Miura showed him how to extract the vegetables from the ground and gave him some empty bags from her basket to put them in. He listened politely, not wanting to tell her that he'd farmed a bit before in Otsu. They worked in silence for a couple of hours as the sun began to climb in the sky.

Falling into a rhythm, Kenshin found the work oddly soothing. His hands and back were engaged, but his mind could wander where it willed. He wondered how Katsura was doing, and thought of his comrades in arms, regretting the loss of some, and hoping the survivors were safe and happy with their families now that the last shogunate forces had surrendered.

Like so many others, Miura's eldest brother hadn't made it back from the war. With that thought, he looked over and back along the next row where Miura was working.

She was gone.

Kenshin's hands stilled. He rose to a standing position and wheeled around. She hadn't disappeared, she was lying face down across her row. At first he thought she'd tripped and fallen, but when she didn't move he knew something was wrong.

Sprinting to her, Kenshin knelt and turned her over. She was pale, but alive. Puffs of air came from her mouth when he passed his hand over it. There was a streak of dirt on her cheek.

Harking back to his fighting days, he automatically looked her over for a wound, but saw no sign of one. She'd fainted, the way he'd thought she would when he first met her and gave her the news about her brother. He guessed that the stress finally caught up with her.

Sliding his arms behind her shoulders and knees, he picked her up and carried her to the tree where she'd left her basket, and laid her down in the shade. As he'd thought, there was a jug of water in the basket. He opened it, poured some on the serving cloth he found, and pressed it against her forehead.

After a while she moaned and her eyelids fluttered open.

"Where…What?"

"You fainted," Kenshin told her. She tried to sit up, but he pressed her back into the grass. "No. Rest here."

"But the harvest," she protested.

"Rest," he commanded again. "It's nearly lunch time," he lied. "You've done enough for now. I'll get back to work."

She nodded, relenting. She was still very pale, and Kenshin knew he was doing the right thing. He gave her face a last swipe with the cloth, washing the smear off her cheek, then handed it to her, and went back to work.

At midday he came to check on her, and was a little unnerved to discover she'd been watching him. She smiled shyly and offered him some dumplings. Kenshin insisted she share them, and they ate companionably in silence.

"Thank you, for helping me, and for helping Hirose," she said when they'd finished.

"It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same." He looked away, embarrassed.

"Were you in the war?" she asked in an obvious attempt to fill the silence.

Kenshin grew still.

"Yes," he answered cautiously.

"Which side did you fight for?"

He hesitated. "The Ishin Shishi" he said at last, and watched to see what her reaction would be. After all, her brother died in the service of the shogun.

She nodded. "Lots of people around here did too. My brother and Sanada didn't, but no one thinks the worse of them for it. Our local daimyo was forced into exile for staying loyal to the shogun. It was a confusing time."

"Yes."

Confusing was one word for the ebb and flow of alliances and loyalties during the war.

"So why do you wander, now that the war is over?" she asked guilelessly.

"It's complicated," Kenshin replied shortly.

"Oh," she whispered, and looked away, face pinched in embarrassment.

He'd been too abrupt. Unsure how to fix it, he got up and went back to work. When the light began to fail he collected her from under the tree and they walked back in silence. Miura was too hesitant to begin a conversation, and Kenshin was too tired to do more than put one foot in front of the other.

Hirose was awake and in pain when they returned. Miura hurried to fix dinner while Kenshin poured several buckets of water over his body from the well out back to sluice off the sweat and dirt he'd accumulated during the day.

Again he ate quickly and left Miura to feed her brother in private, retreating to his room as soon as he could.

o-o-o

The next morning Hirose looked better at breakfast, probably because Miura had slipped the medicine the doctor gave him in his tea the night before. He was even civil, asking how much harvesting had been done the day before. When Kenshin told him, he seemed pleased with the answer, and complimented Kenshin and Miura for making good time.

That was when Kenshin realized Miura hadn't told her brother that she'd fainted the day before. Catching the warning in her eyes, he stayed quiet about it until they were halfway to the field.

"You didn't tell your brother about yesterday."

Miura looked down at her feet. "I didn't want him to worry. I'll be fine today. You'll see."

Opening his mouth to protest, Kenshin was distracted when she lunged forward, hurrying to a little hut by the side of the road. She knelt in front of it and placed her palms together.

It was a shrine with a small stone Buddha inside. Kenshin waited until she'd finished, ready to take up the conversation where it left off.

"It's my brother's favorite," she said as she stood, pointedly staring at the statue.

"Oh?"

"Yuuichirou always said he looked like he was smiling, so he liked it much more than the bigger Buddha in the town shrine. See?"

Kenshin had to admit that the stonemason who'd carved the statue did an excellent job of tilting the corners of the mouth up just enough to suggest that this particular Buddha was more about good cheer than somber holiness.

"It's…nice."

Seeing Miura's disappointment in his reply, Kenshin continued.

"He looks happy. It's a good Buddha."

She smiled softly and stared back at the shrine.

"I think so too. It always reminds me of Yuuichirou every time I see it."

Suddenly it seemed petty to berate Miura for lying to her brother. They walked on to the field in companionable silence, Miura accepting his order that she stay under the shady tree while he worked.

He was more than ready for a break when mid-day rolled around. Miura had the food and water ready for him, and he ate and drank gladly. As night fell they walked back together, talking of inconsequential things.

The days passed. Hirose became more gracious to Kenshin, to the point where he no longer seemed to mind having him see Miura feed him. Hirose spent his time sleeping or reading. Miura confided to Kenshin that Hirose once hoped to go into service with their elder brother, clerking for the local daimyo. That dream died when the war claimed the hired hand who used to help run the family farm, and Hirose had to become a full time farmer. Yuuichirou's death meant that he was doomed to continue farming since with the daimyo's disgrace and the reorganization of the local government. The clerking job had disappeared as well.

One morning Miura was silent as they walked to the field. She stayed at the shrine praying for longer than usual, and only offered a sad smile to Kenshin instead of an explanation when she was done.

At lunch, Kenshin decided to go on the offensive.

"Miura-san. Is something wrong?"

She hesitated as she handed him his food. "What makes you ask?"

"You are quiet today."

"Perhaps I'm a quiet person," she suggested, avoiding his gaze.

She was no Tomoe, able to hide her emotions behind a carefully blank face. Miura was unhappy, and Kenshin needed to find out if it was something he'd done or said.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

She sighed.

"It's Yuuichirou's birthday today. I just wonder, when he went to war if he knew he'd never spend another birthday with us." Her breath hitched and she began to cry as she spoke.

"It isn't fair! He made it almost to the end of the war, and then he died of illness. Yuuichirou almost never got sick. Why? How could he die like that?"

She cried brokenly, bending over to lean against the tree, muffling her sobs against her arms.

Shocked, Kenshin berated himself. How could he have been so self-centered as to think Miura's unhappiness had anything to do with him? He'd been more than ready to apologize for whatever he'd done, but in a situation like this there was nothing he could say to cheer her up.

He'd seen countless men die in the war, some by his blade, some by gunshot or explosion from the artillery shells both sides used. Dying of illness was another type of hellacious death, no less horrible than death from a broken, wounded body.

Wordlessly, he put his hand on her shoulder and left it there, letting her cry. If only he could cry away his memories, his particular sorrows and regrets.

Eventually her tears ran dry. She turned to face him, and he let his hand fall off her shoulder to his side.

"Please forgive my weakness," she whispered.

Kenshin shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive. Grieving happens to us all."

Miura sniffed. "Did you lose someone in the war too?"

Kenshin hesitated. She noticed and shrank a little.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled quickly. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's alright."

Coming to a decision, Kenshin looked her in the eye as he spoke. "I lost my wife. I haven't been able to cry since that day."

"Ah," she sighed in perfect understanding. "This is the first time I've been able to cry since I read Sanada's letter about Yuuichirou. I wanted to be so brave for Hirose. He's trying so hard to make the farm work. I didn't want to burden him."

"I don't think that you could ever be a burden to your brother," Kenshin said slowly. It was true. Hirose adored his little sister.

"Thank you for saying so," She seemed pleased, and gave him a watery smile. Kenshin went back to work with a lighter heart.

o-o-o

Miura caught a summer cold. To take her mind off it, Kenshin took longer lunch breaks so he could talk with her. She wanted to know more about Tomoe. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the circumstances of Tomoe's death, so he talked about the little things. Her quiet grace, her love of writing, the way her forgetfulness worried her, like the time she'd forgotten the daikon radish for dinner. In speaking of Tomoe and their days in Otsu, Kenshin felt his words take on a glow, reflecting the happiness and contentment he'd felt. It seemed to affect Miura too. She smiled more often in between coughs, and laughed in delight when he spoke of the village children who came to play with the 'medicine seller' and his wife.

They were walking home from the fields, Miura giggling at his story of the antics of Aki, a toddler who liked to eat bugs, much to his older sister's displeasure and Tomoe's surprise, when Kenshin noticed a stranger in the doorway of the Hagiwara home.

Instantly he stepped in front of Miura and put his hand on the hilt of his sakabatou.

The man in the doorway also carried swords. He was of average height, lean to the point of thinness, but wiry too. His stance and demeanor radiated animosity.

Kenshin peered into the darkness over the man's shoulder, unable to see if Hirose was all right. He glanced quickly around the yard, searching for signs of other warriors, but saw and felt only the presence of the one blocking the doorway.

"S…Sanada-san?" Miura's voice quavered from behind him.

She pushed past Kenshin and came to stand at the foot of the engawa.

The man stepped to the end of the porch and stared down at her, ignoring Kenshin.

"Miura-chan," the man said at last. "I'm home."

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Sanada stayed to dinner. Hirose was sitting up now, propped against a folded futon, and pleased to be able to wield his own chopsticks. Miura bustled around, happily eavesdropping on Sanada and Hirose's conversation about her brother Yuuichirou while she served the food.

As he spoke of their brother, Sanada kept a wary eye on Kenshin, who stayed quiet and tried to be as self-effacing as possible. Hirose wanted to know what Yuuichirou's last days were like.

"He was ill, out of his mind with fever at the end," Sanada said bluntly, then tempered his statement as he noticed Miura's hand falter as she served the soup. "I don't think he was suffering. He just rambled on and on. He'd talk to people we knew back in town, have entire conversations with people only he could see. It was like he was caught in a dream."

Hirose and his sister exchanged curious glances.

Sanada grimaced. "I'm expressing it badly. He wasn't aware of his present, he was happy in the past. I envied him."

"Envied him?" Hirose echoed in surprise.

"I got sick too. I was on the cot next to his. They put us, the ones who were too sick to be moved, in a temple and let us stay until we could walk home on our own. My fever wasn't as bad as Hirose's so my mind didn't wander. I wish it had."

Kenshin stared down at the teacup in his hand. He knew from the bleakness in Sanada's voice that the temple was probably filled with the wounded and the dying as well as the ill. If the shogunate forces in Ezo were as hard pressed as he thought, they'd probably been low on medicines, especially the ones that deadened pain. He'd carried his share of the wounded to healer's tents on the battlefield. He'd seen the horror of the badly torn up bodies which clung to life despite the pain, heard their cries, and witnessed the helpless pity on the doctors' faces.

"And where would you have liked it to wander to?" asked Hirose, half sympathetic and half joking.

"Why here of course," Sanada set his teacup down. "Where else would I want to be but back home?"

He smiled, but there was a melancholy trace of his memories in his eyes.

"Certainly you can stay here as long as you like," Hirose said. "But won't your mother be missing you?"

Miura knelt by Kenshin to take his empty teacup, smiling at him as she tilted her head to hear the man's reply.

"Mother?" Sanada quirked and eyebrow nonchalantly and took another sip of tea.

"I saw her yesterday. She's taken in boarders while I was gone and informed me that until one of them leaves there's no room for me, unless I want to sleep in the garden. She still hasn't forgiven me for picking the losing side."

"Ah, really?" Hirose chewed his lower lip, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Sanada reassured him. "It'll give me a chance to help out with the harvest."

"But we already have…" Miura burst out then hid, scarlet faced, behind her serving tray. Well brought up ladies of samurai households did not blurt out things which contradicted their elder brothers, especially not in front of guests.

Hirose, startled by Miura's breach of etiquette, opened his mouth to apologize to his guest, but Sanada forestalled him.

"No, no, it's alright," the man said calmingly. "I grew up with you, Miura-chan, and Yuuichirou. Why be so formal?"

Miura lowered her tray to peer at him over the edge, but she moved closer to Kenshin, as if to hide behind him. Sanada noticed, and Kenshin saw that he wasn't pleased by the girl's action.

With a tight little smile, Sanada continued.

"I know you already have help," his gaze flicked over to Kenshin then back to Hirose, "but I need to learn a trade. It'll do me good to work out doors. The new government doesn't need any more clerks, so farming seems as good a job as any. Perhaps if I'm good enough you'll hire me full time."

He laughed, but Kenshin caught the unspoken 'so you won't need anyone else' implicit in Sanada's words. Miura seemed to hear it as well, for she slipped him an extra sweet dumpling for dessert, as if to make up for Sanada's hostility.

The next morning Sanada joined Kenshin and Miura in the fields. He'd stayed up late talking to Hirose and ended up using the futon Hirose used for his backrest, and stifled yawns as he walked.

Miura pointedly chose a row near Kenshin's and worked until her paleness alarmed him and he convinced her to go and rest. Sanada watched without comment from the other side of the field.

At lunch, Sanada told stories of meals he and Yuuichirou scavenged during the war, and managed to make Miura laugh. It made Kenshin smile to hear her laughter. Miura was so young to suffer the way she had, losing both parents and her elder brother in the space of a few short years. They'd sold their home in town and retreated to the family's landholding in the countryside. He hoped Sanada would stay for a long while at the Hagiwara farm. When the harvest was done Kenshin would have to move on, and it pleased him to think that Sanada would be there to continue to make the girl laugh.

Back at the house Kenshin let Sanada use the well water first to wash off. Miura lingered by his side while he removed his sandals.

"I'm sorry, Kenshin."

"For what?" he asked, surprised.

The girl sat down on the engawa next to him. "Sanada ignores you. He ignored you all through lunch. I don't want you to think that just because you're a wanderer that you don't matter."

Kenshin felt his mouth open and close. If Sanada had been ignoring him, he hadn't noticed it. Then again, it was his job as a shadow assassin to go unnoticed. It never occurred to him to be insulted when Sanada addressed all his jokes and stories to Miura. He was a family friend, and Kenshin was a stranger.

Miura sighed. "It was nice when it was just the two of us, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Kenshin agreed politely.

She smiled, and then became solemn. "Hirose promised that he'd pay you for helping us out. He would never go back on his word just because Sanada wants to help out too."

"Thank you."

Kenshin watched Miura smile again and go into the house to start dinner. She didn't realize that he'd have worked for room and board. He didn't know whether to be amused or humbled by her partisanship. If she only knew whom she'd championed, she'd probably order him out of the house. Depressed, Kenshin made his way around the porch to find Sanada had left him a bucket full of water by the well.

The former shogunate samurai might not deign to speak to a lower class wanderer, but he wasn't unkind.

The next day Sanada was the one to convince Miura to quit early. With an apologetic glance at Kenshin, she did as he suggested. Kenshin was relieved. He'd worried that she'd make herself ill again when she tried to resume helping out with the harvesting again when Sanada showed up.

She was quiet on the walk back to the house, her steps less vigorous than they'd been that morning, and Kenshin and Sanada had to walk slower to compensate.

"We should take the oxcart tomorrow," Sanada suggested.

"But we're not done harvesting, are we, Kenshin?" Miura looked pleadingly at him.

Hesitating, Kenshin agreed. There was one more small field to go.

"Still, we may as well start carrying the bags back to the shed tomorrow. That way you could ride instead of walk."

Miura wouldn't hear of it. "I'm fine. I don't need to ride."

Sanada stopped, forcing Kenshin and Miura to do so as well. "What's wrong, Miura-chan?"

She backed up a pace. "Nothing's wrong."

He sighed sharply. "Then why did you start pulling on your obi when I mentioned the oxcart?"

Glancing over, Kenshin saw that Sanada was right. Miura was clutching the bottom edge of her obi where it met her hip, creasing the fabric. Startled by his words, her fingers stilled and her face took on the expression of a child caught stealing bean jam. She dropped her hands to her sides and fisted them.

"I…" she began, then fell into confused silence.

"You always do that when you're scared. You've done it since you were a child," Sanada told her. He softened his voice. "What are you afraid of?"

Still looking guilty, Miura stared down at the dirt beneath her feet. "I don't want to ride in the oxcart. That stupid ox hurt Hirose. If Kenshin hadn't come along…"

"Ah, Miura-chan," Sanada's eyes were gentle as he remonstrated.

"You can't blame the ox. Hirose said a snake spooked it. You live on a farm now. You can't stop using the oxcart. I know that you know how to drive it. Hirose told me you're better at it than he is."

"He said that?" Miura looked up from her contemplation of the ground.

"Yes. Tomorrow you're going to show me how you do it, alright?"

"Well, I suppose I could."

Sanada smiled. "That's the spirit."

He started walking, Miura and Kenshin followed.

What must it be like to know someone so well that their smallest gesture had meaning? When Tomoe was alive, when they lived together in Otsu as man and wife, he'd loved her more than anything else, only he realized it too late. Even when he thought she'd betrayed him, he'd gone to her, would have sacrificed anything, even his own life, to protect her, but had he really known her? The pages of her diary revealed more of her inner self, her torments, her joys, than what he'd observed. Had she lived, would he have learned to read her better? Or would he have been insensitive and blind, forced to rely on whatever she was willing to share out loud? Marrying Tomoe and making her happy in the months they had together was his greatest accomplishment, but also his greatest shame. There was so much he didn't know; hadn't learned. He didn't deserve to call himself her husband.

He fell behind, allowing Sanada and Miura to talk quietly as they walked on ahead. She'd glance back at him occasionally, but continued to answer as Sanada spoke to her.

Rounding the last hillock before the farmhouse, Kenshin sensed that something was wrong before he saw Sanada and Miura standing still. The samurai's hand was on her arm, keeping her back from the farmhouse. Her body leaned towards her home.

He moved to join them and saw over their shoulders the front door lying askew, center jagged with gouges as though it had been kicked in. The murmur of voices was coming from the ox shed.

"Miura, go to town and get the magistrate."

The girl's arm trembled in his grip. Kenshin saw her eyes, the brown stark against the pallor of her face, go wide with shock.

Sanada squeezed her arm then released it. "Go! Now! Get help!" he hissed.

Miura was of samurai stock. She knew how to obey orders in a time of crisis. She gulped, dropped her basket to kilt up her kimono skirts with her hands, and took off towards the road.

Sanada drew his sword and advanced towards the house without a backward glance. Like Kenshin, he kept his weapon with him even in the fields.

A man dressed in ragged gi and hakama, stepped around the ruined door and out onto the engawa porch. He was wiping his blade with a bloody cloth, one of the ones Miura used to dry dishes.

Kenshin knew without entering the room that Hirose was dead. Sanada did too. He ran forward with a roar.

The noise alerted the men in the ox shed, who were just leading the ox out, probably to steal it along with whatever they could carry from the house.

They must've been disappointed, Kenshin thought grimly. The Hagiwaras had long since sold whatever luxury goods their family once had.

Leaving the murderer to Sanada, he ran forward and stood between the porch and the three bandits who'd left the ox to rush towards their fellow.

"I am your opponent," he told them coldly.

The first two skidded to a stop, causing the third to run into their backs and stumble backward. All three were dirty, unshaven. They were of varying heights and weights, but the bloodlust in their eyes was the same. They'd tasted battle before, and all three had their swords out and ready in an instant.

The tallest of the three smirked, and spat out a command to the other two who began to circle to either side of Kenshin.

Kenshin watched them, impassive. He was used to being underestimated in battle because of his size. He let them get halfway around him, then crouched in his customary battoujitsu stance, right hand hovering over the sakabatou's hilt.

It was over in seconds.

Draw blade. Slice right across ribcage. Pivot, bring hands together on hilt to slice again, downward diagonal this time, to hear the crunch as the second bandit's collarbone broke. Then the last swipe, upward, under the armpit of the last bandit in a move that would have sliced his torso in two had Kenshin's blade been a regular katana. Instead, ribs cracked, the man howled and fell to the ground to join his partners.

Turning his attention back to the engawa, Kenshin saw that Sanada was just finishing up. The blood of Sanada's opponent spattered the wall and wooden planks of the engawa, his headless body sprawled across the porch, while the head itself lay in the grass by the steps. Sanada hadn't escaped the blood spray either. It dotted his face, hair, and gi top, and dripped off his katana.

Sanada flicked the excess blood off his blade, and reached down to retrieve the cloth his enemy used. Expressionlessly, he wiped his blade once, twice, then sheathed it.

Kenshin sheathed his as well, pushing it slowly into the sheath until the blade was secured, the tsuba meeting the sheath's mouth with a distinctive 'snick' sound. He walked over to the steps and waited as Sanada descended.

The samurai stared over Kenshin's shoulder as he stepped down.

"Hirose…?" Kenshin asked.

"Dead," Sanada answered. His gaze flicked away from the ox shed where the beast was lowing, distressed at the smell of blood, and looked Kenshin full in the face.

"I know you," he told him. "I remember now. I saw you fight once, with Okita-san. It was dark, but it was you. There's no mistake. Yuuichirou and I joined his squad together. We both saw you duel with the captain."

Sanada's eyes were intent, daring Kenshin to deny it, so he didn't.

"Yes. I crossed swords with Captain Okita," he admitted slowly.

Sanada nodded, keeping his eyes on Kenshin's face.

"Captain Saitoh took over the fight. He was second only to Hijikata. Even so, you nearly bested him. You're fast. You could've killed them," he gestured to the three men groaning on the ground behind Kenshin. "Why didn't you?"

Kenshin braced himself for Sanada's anger. The bandits had murdered his best friend's brother. Of course he'd be angry that Kenshin hadn't punished them more severely.

"I took an oath. I will not kill anymore."

Incredulity, surprise, and a hint of respect flashed across Sanada's face before he regained control over his expression and his features tightened.

"There's been enough killing," he muttered gruffly.

Wiping his face with his sleeve, he brushed past Kenshin to tend to the survivors. Together, he and Kenshin retrieved the bandits' swords and piled them in the grass a distance away, then found twine from the ox shed to tie them with. While Sanada wasn't exactly gentle in his treatment of the wounded, he also didn't take the opportunity to cause more pain than necessary while binding them.

They'd just got the ox back into its stall and covered the bodies of Hirose and the bandit on the porch when the magistrate's men arrived. Their leader, Kyouhei, took charge at once. After questioning Kenshin and Sanada, he took the bandits into custody and borrowed the oxcart to transport them and the bodies to town.

Kyouhei was a samurai, like Sanada. He spoke mainly to Sanada as his social equal and mostly ignored Kenshin, which suited Kenshin just fine.

It was Sanada who went with Kyouhei to make the formal complaint against the bandits, leaving Kenshin to clean up.

Blood, reflected Kenshin, was a difficult thing to clean. It seeped into cracks, stained wood and tatami mats, and when it dried it changed to a brown rust color that was difficult to see against the dark tones of the engawa and tatami. He worked through the fading sunlight, skipping dinner in order to eradicate the traces of violence staining the Hagiwara home.

As he worked, it began to rain, one of those summer storms that blow up from out of nowhere. It was as though the skies too wished to wash away the bloody events of the day.

When he was done cleaning, he climbed the ladder to the second floor, crawled to his futon, and collapsed.

Sanada showed up at dawn and found Kenshin making breakfast in the kitchen area.

"She wants to see you," he said as Kenshin turned to greet him, soupspoon in hand.

"How is she?"

The older man leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Not well. She's quiet, too quiet. She barely speaks. If only…"

Kenshin waited, but Sanada merely cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"The funeral is tomorrow. She wants you to come to it. If we work hard today, we should get the last field harvested and we can take a load into town tomorrow on the way."

Kenshin nodded. It was a practical plan. It would also give Sanada something to do. The samurai seemed to prefer activity to inactivity. He threw himself into the work, prompting Kenshin to work faster as well. The field was done in record time, and they ate dinner silently, avoiding looking at the new tatami mat Kenshin placed over the spot where Hirose had died.

That night it rained again.

The funeral was held in town. The magistrate opened his home to the mourners. Kenshin kept to the fringes, viewing Miura from afar, allowing Sanada to be the one to stand by her side. The magistrate's wife, a plump woman with a kind face, also hovered over the girl. When it was over Miura slipped by them to grab Kenshin's sleeve. She led him to a small courtyard and turned to face him.

Her face was white and strained, eyes soft with grief, but dry. She wore a loose fitting dark blue kimono he'd never seen before and figured the Magistrate's wife must have loaned it to her. Miura's usual kimonos were plain and threadbare.

"Take me with you," she pleaded softly.

"I…" Kenshin began, not knowing how to respond.

Did she realize what she was asking? A man and a woman traveling alone together wasn't proper. The last time he'd traveled alone with a woman, he'd married her. Katsura meant Kenshin's sojourn with Tomoe to be a subterfuge, but to protect her reputation he'd insisted they wed for real before leaving for Otsu. What was meant to be a sham marriage became a real one. Look how that ended. He wasn't ready to allow anyone close like that again, not even a nice girl like Miura.

"There's nothing to keep me here," she added.

Miura leaned in close, still clutching his sleeve.

"Please," she begged again softly. "Everyone I've ever loved is gone. If you leave too…" She swallowed, visibly forcing herself to regain control.

"I want to go with you. You know what it's like to lose someone you love."

His heart went cold. He'd just been thinking of Tomoe, and Miura bringing her up and comparing their losses twisted something deep inside him. His grief for Tomoe was his, and selfishly he didn't want to share it. How could he help Miura through her grieving if he hadn't finished grieving himself? Was it fair to her try to muddle through together? She looked so lost, so woebegone. Could he really help her? Didn't he have an obligation to help her?

"Life on the road isn't easy," he warned her.

"I don't care." Her expression grew stormy. "Anywhere is better than here."

Kenshin sighed. "Sleep on it. You shouldn't make such decisions at a time like this."

He gestured vaguely to the open doorway where the mourners passed by or stood in twos or threes talking quietly. The funeral was barely over, and she was staying in a stranger's house. Of course she'd be unsettled.

Miura released his sleeve and hugged herself. Clearly, his answer wasn't the one she'd hoped for. She nodded sadly and drifted away down the porch to disappear around the edge of the house.

Kenshin watched her go. He'd made her sad. He felt regret, but made no move to go after her.

"You can't take her with you." Sanada's voice was harsh and angry though low to keep his words from being overheard.

Kenshin turned to find the samurai in the doorway to the magistrate's house. He'd obviously heard everything, and wasn't pleased.

"If leaving with me will ease her sorrow, how can I refuse?" Kenshin asked simply.

He did not love Miura, but he could protect her and travel with her until she found a place where she wanted to be. He supposed traveling seemed like an adventure to her, but it would soon pall.

Sanada stepped forward and closed the shogi screen door behind him to ensure their privacy.

"You don't understand, you can't take her with you because she wouldn't survive. She's dying."

Kenshin began to frown at the implication that he couldn't keep her safe, then Sanada's final words sank in.

"Dying?"

Sanada nodded, face tightening with emotion. "I've seen the signs before. The paleness, the coughing. She's got what Okita had. Soon she'll begin to cough up blood, if she hasn't already. Hirose told me she burned some handkerchiefs. He confirmed what I suspected. Their grandmother died of it too. Miura was too young to remember it. Hirose never spoke of his suspicions."

Sanada huffed in exasperation.

"Those two, always trying to protect each other. Losing their parents and their home hit Miura hard, then finding out Yuuichirou was dead…Hirose couldn't bear to cause her any more pain. He wanted her to think she just had a cold."

His gaze dropped to Kenshin's side. "That blade can protect her from bandits, but can it defeat illness?"

Kenshin looked away, conceding Sanada's point by his silence.

He looked back at Sanada. "What will become of her?"

"I promised Yuuichirou I'd look after Hirose and Miura. I may have failed Hirose, but I won't fail her. I'll marry her and run the farm for her."

"She does not love you," Kenshin warned, then felt ashamed for the pain in Sanada's eyes showed that he already knew it.

"She loves you," Sanada admitted. "I can see that. But could you marry her? Stay with her for as long as it takes her to die? Can you hold her when she coughs up blood and listen to her fight for her next breath? Can you do all that while looking over your shoulder? If I recognized you, the Hitokiri Battousai, someone else could too. I'm not the only ex-shinsengumi member around. The war is over. We're all returning home."

Home.

Kenshin had no home to offer Miura, and it would be the height of selfishness to take her away from Sanada who was willing to make a home with her, just to prove to himself that he could protect her better than he'd protected Tomoe.

"I understand," he bowed his head gravely. "I will be gone by morning."

Making his way past Sanada, he paused with his hand on the shoji.

There was just one thing he had to know. He was aware that the samurai class rarely wed for love. Marriages were arranged between families for alliance purposes more often than not.

"Do you love her?"

"I've loved her since we were children together, but she's only ever seen me as her brother's friend. My mother opposed the match when I spoke to her about it before the war, but now she's washed her hands of me so I don't care what she thinks. Miura is all that matters."

Sanada kept his gaze on the treetops, refusing to look at Kenshin. There was nothing more to say.

Opening the shoji screen, Kenshin made his way through the mourners and left.

The next morning he packed his things, bundled his few belongings on his back, and made his way down the dirt track, leaving the Hagiwara farm behind him. He stopped off at the small roadside shrine, the one Miura pointed out to him, to pray.

The Buddha was broken. One side of the small hut's roof was caved in, and the statue lay in two pieces. It looked like the bandits' work, typical vandalism from those who cared nothing for human life or decency.

Kenshin cleared away the broken pieces of wood, and taking clay from the nearby stream, he used it to glue the two halves of the Buddha back together. It wasn't perfect, but it would hold.

Miura thought she was in love with him. He'd shared his grief over Tomoe with her and it created a bond between them. It was a mistake he wouldn't make again.

He looked at the stone Buddha smiling back at him serenely. Broken hearts could be mended. He had to believe that for himself and for Miura.

Taking a last look at the Hagiwara farm, Kenshin turned and set off down the road.

THE END

**A/N: And there you have it, my take on why Kenshin was so reluctant to let Kaoru know that he cared for her, and why he kept quiet for so long about his tragic marriage to Tomoe. Feelings of worthlessness, and of having nothing to offer a girl don't disappear over night, and I wanted to write a story that would explain Kenshin's unique blend of hopeful perseverance and romantic reticence.**


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